Soul Eater: Revalations
by The Lord of All Chaos
Summary: The DWMA stands as a defence against Kishin and witch kind alike, the forces of evil. Death Weapon Meister Academy trains weapons and Meisters how to fight this evil. This is a tale about the DWMA's darkest hour, in which three heroes and their weapons shine. Maka Albarn, Black*Star and Death the Kid. Just your basic Soul Eater retelling


**Soul Eater – Revelations**

**Prologue 1**

**Resonance of the Soul - Will Soul Eater become a Death Scythe?**

The night air was cold. High above the rooftops of Death City, the crescent moon laughed, its eerie smile dripping blood. The moon rocked as it laughed, looking down the world from high above, watching everything with sadistic glee.

A lone woman walked the streets, clutching her bare arms, cursing herself for not wearing a coat. A cold wind whistled past her. She shuddered and pushed her hair back behind her ear. She paused for a moment, as her ears detected the faintest sound of grating metal.

She disregarded it, deciding that it was nothing more than her mind playing tricks on her. She walked on, shivering non-stop from the cold. She stopped in her tracks and began to fumble inside her bag for her mobile phone.

She froze when she heard the sound of grating metal again, louder and closer. She began to turn round, the grating metal accompanied now by the sound of deep, ragged breathing.

Her eyes saw the brutal red in a leather-like face, and the flash of knife like fingers that sliced silently through the cold wind. Her vision was filled with red as the blades tore open her torso, ripping her lungs and cutting her heart. Her body fell to the ground, dead, blood pooling onto the cobbled street below her.

The creature that stood above the body smiled a cold smile. He was dressed in Victorian styled clothing. A white tunic could be seen underneath a grey travelling coat. His shoes were polished to a gleam, marred by a few flecks of dried blood. His trousers were a night black and on his left hand, he wore a brilliant white glove, with a kanji, Japanese figure embroidered on the back.万力,Jack. His right hand however was bare and where the ends of his fingers should be were metal, knife-like claws, coated in wet blood. Tied to his hip was a thin rapier.

His face was a mask of leather and skin. Half of it was a human face, handsome and smiling its cold dark smile. The other half was a patchwork of different shades of grey leather, a grim slash cut into it where the mouth should be. Black hair grew in plenty off the top of his head. The eyes set into both sides of his grim face, were little more than glowing red marbles.

From the torn heart of the dead woman before him there came a bright, blue glow. It strengthened and out of the still heart there came a glowing orb. The orb was wriggling slightly, as if it desired to be free of something. He smiled as it rose to waist level. He reached out his clawed hand and plucked it from the air as if it were a fruit.

He lifted towards his mouth and raised it to his lips. His mouth opened, his leather face stretching and wrinkling. The blue orb, the woman's soul, slid into the creature's open maw and disappeared from sight. As he swallowed his body pulsed with a brilliant blue aura for a single instant.

A scream pieced the night and the figure turned to see the retreating back of another young woman. His human lips curled upward into a smile.

"Another soul for the taking," he whispered, his voice quiet, yet strangely melodic despite his appearance.

He crouched down, like a cat about to pounce before sprinting with inhuman speed. He could hear the sound of the woman's heals slapping on the cobbled street and her terrified squealing breaths.

He caught a glimpse of her turn a corner and he cracked a smile. He leapt into the air and bounced off of the wall of a building and kicked off of the one behind him. The simple yet brilliant manoeuvre brought his feet straight onto the woman's back, forcing her to the cobbled floor.

He heard her cry in pain as she hit the floor. He stepped off of her back and rolled her over with his foot. He looked down into her terrified eyes and smirked.

"Don't take this personally," he said, raising his claw hand. "But… you know how it is."

"Stop right there," came an authoritative voice as he was about to commence the killing strike. He looked up, barely noticing his prey scramble out from underneath him. Two figures, dark against the backlight of a street lamp stood at the top of a wide staircase.

One was crouched sitting on step and smiling at him with shark-like teeth, the irises of his eyes a blood red. His hair was a spiky white, held up by a blue hair band. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his black leather jacket. _Soul Eater-Weapon (Scythe)-DWMA Student_

Standing a few steps above him was a tall girl of around the same age. Her sandy blonde hair was tied back into two pigtails, the fringe falling just over her olive green eyes. Her slim frame was wrapped in a black coat, with tails that fell down to her ankles. Her hands were encased in white gloves and he could clearly see the plaid skirt she wore. _Maka Albarn-1 Star Scythe Meister-DWMA Student_

"There's no doubt about," Soul muttered as he stared down at the man before him. "His soul is a Kishin egg. It's pure evil." He liked his lips and his smile widened. "He's not human anymore."

"I know," Maka said in response. "Any soul that breaks from the path of humanity runs the risk of becoming a Kishin. In the name of Lord Death this evil must be purged."

Soul stood up slowly. "He's turning himself into a weapon," he muttered to himself. "I guess that means me and him are alike." He raised his left arm. "But that's not the problem here," Soul continued, his arm glowing a bright blue before changing into the curved, red and black blade of a scythe. "The problem here is his soul."

With this every inch of soul was wrapped in a bright, electric blue aura. Soul's aura warped and stretched spinning around continuously, moving towards Maka. In response Maka held out her hand and grabbed a hold of the spinning form, twirling the grey handled scythe over and over in her grasp, before resting the blade over her shoulder.

"Serial killer, Jack the Ripper," she called. "In the name of Lord Death, your days of murder end tonight." With this, she raised her fiery green gaze to meet Jack's. "Your soul is mine!"

Jack snarled and launched himself into the air, his figure a black silhouette against the laughing moon, his claws glinting in its pale light. Maka looked on, her eyes judging, estimating, calculating.

"Weapon and Meister," Maka whispered. "Two fighting as one."

As Jack drew closer he drew his rapier with his free hand, howling like a demon. Maka moved her hand and Soul's blade fell off of her shoulder and spun up into a defensive guard.

"Let's go Soul," Maka said just before Jack's rapier struck Soul's blade. Maka flicked her wrist sending Jack over her head. Jack growled as he slid on the cobbles but kicked off from the ground and launched himself back at Maka, clawed fingers aimed at Maka's chest.

Maka raised Soul and parried the strike, whacking the handle of her Weapon into Jack's jaw. Jack growled and spat blood, raising his rapier to block what would have been a fatal blow. As it were Jack found himself forced back a step, but was immediately back on the offensive.

He swiped at Maka's neck while she ducked and came in with a rapid left hook to his midriff. He growled and slashed down with his rapier. Maka sidestepped and spun round behind him, Soul's blade slicing through coat and tunic, before snagging for a moment on tough leathery skin.

Jack hissed in vehemence at this minor injury and slashed with clawed fingers. Maka dodged the attack and Jack struck a stone support pillar for a nearby building. The force of the attack devastated the pillar, reducing it to dust and rubble.

Jack ducked a return strike from Maka and slashed again with his rapier, which Maka easily parried. Maka stepped back and slashed down with the blade which Jack blocked and his clawed hand came down with such force that the ground seemed to explode on impact.

Maka stepped back and spun Soul above her head before slashing down, which Jack parried. He snarled and launched himself at Maka. She smirked and jumped into the air. Jack stumbled at the top step of the stairs below him. He began to fall forwards as Maka planted her foot on the back of his head and launched herself a few yards away. She turned as she landed and ran full tilt at Jack's unprotected back.

"It's ours now," she hissed as she ran back to the stairs.

Jack jumped high into the air in an effort to maintain his balance. He turned in the air and saw Maka leap with strength that seemed impossible for her stature. He tried to raise a defence, but Soul's blade was instantly pressed against his torso.

"This is the ninety-ninth soul!" Maka cried as Soul's blade cleaved Jack into two pieces.

Maka landed smoothly and watched as Jack's body dispersed into hundreds of black strips orbiting a glowing red orb. The strips span around the orb, contracting rapidly, spinning faster as they did so.

The red sphere descended as the rings disappeared. Maka slowly walked up to it, Soul's blade glowing blue once more as she neared. She turned slightly, and Soul's blade became fluid like. His head and shoulders emerged from the string of blue light, and his right arm snaked out to pluck the glowing red soul out of the air in front of him.

Soul dropped to the ground, human once more, Jack's soul in his palm. He smiled as he raised it to his lips. He opened his shark-toothed mouth as wide as it would go and placed it on his tongue. He closed his mouth and swallowed the soul. He breathed out deeply, and then belched.

"Maka, thanks for the good meal," Soul said.

"We're almost there," Maka said a touch of pride swelling in her voice. "Took us long enough, but that was number ninety nine. We've finally collected all the Kishin souls me need."

"There's just one thing left now," Soul said, walking slowly up the stairs Maka had just jumped off. "All I have to do is eat the soul of a witch, then I'll be one of Lord Death's weapons." He turned and pointed his thumb at himself, smirking. "You're looking at the next Death Scythe." He turned back around and continued walking up the stairs. "I know right? As if I wasn't cool enough already."

Maka smiled and stared to jog up the stairs after Soul.

"Anyway," Maka said as she caught up to Soul. "We better report back to Lord Death and let him know."

Maka passed Soul and dashed to the nearest shop window. She took a deep breath and exhaled deeply onto the cool glass. A cloud of condensation formed on the cold surface. She raised her hand and began to write in the misted glass.

"Just gotta' write in the Death Room's number," she muttered. "42-42-5-64, whenever you wanna' knock on Death's door."

She tapped the glass with her knuckle as Soul reached her side. Blue ripples pulsed across the glass, before the surface glowed a blinding white.

"Hello Lord Death?" Maka called as the ripples dispersed. "Are you there?"

A strange backdrop appeared in the glass. A brightly lit room with the glass looking out over a raised circle plateau. Strange two-dimensional clouds rolled across the ground and thousands of black crosses were arranged across the scene like a graveyard. A path of cobbles cleaved through the crosses, marked by red arches, with guillotine blades fixed in place. A black sky could be seen in the background, with red stars glowing brightly in the shadows. A crescent moon that did not laugh, hung in the sky.

What appeared to be an animated inkblot turned around to face the screen. His face was comprised of a plaster mask that looked vaguely skull shaped. Three spikes grew from the bottom of the circular face, the centre one longer than the other two. Three circles were arranged in a fashion of eyes and nose.

"Lord Death. Maka Albarn and Weapon Soul Eater reporting sir."

"Well hello their Maka," Death cried, his voice high pitched and slightly melodic. "How are things going, how did the mission go?"

"I've just collected the ninety ninth Kishin soul sir," Maka informed. "Now all me and Soul have to do is take the soul of a witch and we'll be done."

"Well done Maka," Death said, pride swelling in his voice. "You are by far the most advanced pair in your class. You're proving to be just as successful a Meister your mother was."

Maka smiled, feeling slightly embarrassed by Death's praise. Soul was unaffected by Death's comments and just stood there. Maka opened her mouth to reply when a voice called out from behind Death.

"Hey! Soul Eater!"

Maka dropped the smile into a face of contorted displeasure and hatred. A tall man stepped up beside Death, his blue eyes glaring fixedly at Soul, his red hair falling to his shoulders. His gaze was one of dislike and mistrust. _Spirit Albarn A.K.A. 'Death Scythe'-Death Scythe-North American Death Scythe-Death's Current Weapon of Choice _

"I'm warning you Soul," he snarled. "You lay a hand on Maka, as a Death Scythe; no, as her father I will freaking kill you! You got me you pianist ass!"

"What are you smoking?" Soul asked calm and unaffected by Spirit's threats. "Have you actually seen your daughter? Why would I waste my time with this frigid piece of flat chest?"

Maka looked at Soul furious. Spirit rushed forwards and pressed his face in the glass, his eyes seemingly on fire.

"What did you just say!" Spirit roared. "Are you trying to tell me that my Maka's not attractive? Why haven't you made a move on her? Are you too good for her is that it?"

"You are really annoying," Soul muttered, looking passively at his fingernails. Spirit scowled at Soul before looking serenely at Maka.

"Maka, remember your dad loves you," he said smiling.

Maka diverted her gave from Spirit and gave an angry sigh. "Don't waste your breath on me," she snapped. "There's no way in hell I'll consider you my father."

Spirit gagged on his smile and slumped, looking to be on the verge of tears. Death picked Spirit up by the collar with large, brick like fingers, and set him down near the back of the room.

"Anyway," he said, the awkwardness obvious in his voice. "Let's set the family feud aside for the moment."

"Yes sir," Maka said, smiling at Death and glaring daggers at the back of her father's head.

"Well as I'm sure you are both well aware, the mission of young Meister's and weapons such as yourselves is to create a Death Scythe, one of my instrumental weapons."

"Yeah, yeah," Soul yawned. "A weapon must obtain ninety nine Kishin souls and the soul of a witch in order to qualify to become a Death Scythe, we get it."

Death scowled. "You should be more cautious Soul Eater," he chided. "The final soul is the most difficult to obtain. You've both made it so far, but there are countless Meister's who have lost their lives when they've gone up against a witch."

"We understand sir," Maka said, looking at Soul with a fiery glare. "We'll stay on our toes against the witch."

"Excellent. Perhaps the Death Scythe that you become Soul will be an improvement over my current err-" He looked Spirit who was currently balling over a small doll, "Emotionally strung Death Scythe."

"We got it," Soul said waving off Death's expectations. "We'll make a clean job of it."

"You had better, this last collection – the witch's soul – is very important. If you slip up all of the other ninety nine souls you have collected will be confiscated."

"We understand Lord Death," Maka replied, smiling.

"Okay then, good luck," Death beamed as the glass returned to its original state. He sighed as Spirit continued to whine from somewhere behind him.

Death frowned and conceded, "You _are_ a bit annoying."

Spirit ignored the statement and continued to wail pathetically. Death scowled and raised one of his over-sized, brick hands. With a swift motion, the hand came down on the back of Spirit's skull. A brick shaped indent was left as Spirit crumpled to the floor, whimpering in pain.

"Keep that up," Death warned, "And my Reaper Chop will split your head open!"

Spirit twitched.

_*The following day*_

Maka grunted as she hefted another pile of books onto the table she and Soul were sitting at in the academy library. Soul was bobbing his head to some music from his iPod. Maka sighed and pulled a book out from the pile and skimmed through the pages. She'd have to research extensively in order to fight a witch and turn Soul into a Death Scythe.

She looked at Soul. Her Weapon didn't seem that bothered about the research that Maka was doing. She scowled and returned to the book. The book yielded no useful information, simply repeating the witches' background, or something along the same lines.

'_Witches: More often than not witches can be considered some of the most dangerous creatures that walk the planet. The most powerful of witches have often only been over shadowed by the mysterious Kishin, creatures that are born when allowed to consume an excessive number of human souls. Witches are the sworn enemy of Lord Death, his organization the DWMA and the Meisters who attend under its service. Being shunned by rational beings, witches convene a masse every full moon or on other astrologically important dates. The current leader of the Witches Masse is the Grand Witch Baba. According to specialized sources, the Grand Witch possesses only one eye. Her left eye was stolen by a werewolf who now resides in the Witches Prison. The Grand Witch now wears a scarf marked with a ½ over her empty eye socket.'_

"Find anything useful?" Soul asked loudly. Maka sighed and put the book down and pulled another one off of the pile.

"Not in that one," she muttered opening the book to the contents page. "Just information on witches in general. Hopefully this one will tell us more." She came to the page on witches as she finished speaking and began to read.

'_Witches are dangerous creatures who use magic in combination with their Soul Wavelength to do little more than destroy. They make no distinction between friend and foe. The only creature that is safe from a witch is another witch and even this shaky vow can be broken. It is not uncommon for a witch to have their magic or even appearance, based upon an animal. This can not only affect their magic but the working's and appearance of their soul. Some witches even have a magical ability known as Transformation Magic, which allows them to take the form of their patron animal. Most, if not all witches require a broomstick of some variety to fly. Because of their magic, there are few witches who rely on physical strength and dexterity. The few that do are even more formidable in combat and Meisters under the categorisation of One Star are strongly urged not to engage in combat with such witches unless absolutely necessary. Witches whose magic does not lie with animals of some variety may possess magical abilities in other practices such as Computation Magic; a strange magic that lies within science and mathematics, Healing Magic; a path from witches of most types steer clear of as it is against a witches nature to heal damage instead of causing it, or Spatial Magic; a magic that revolves around shapes, trigonometry, photography and projection, dimensional distortion and illusions. Depending on whom, Spatial Magic can even be learned by certain humans, only however in relation to their Soul Wavelength. No matter what form of magic a witch is mastery of, Meisters are advised to engage only witches with powers inferior to their own combat abilities.'_

"What did that one have to say?" Soul asked as Maka put the book down and pulled another one off of the pile.

"Just talking about witches and their powers," Maka asked. "Nothing on how to take on a witch."

"If you don't find something soon I'm going," Soul muttered. "I'm starving."

Maka ignored him, a vein throbbing in her temple. Her eyes widened and a smile passed her face. Here was some information on witch hunting.

'_There is no set way on taking on a witch as each witch is different from one another. There are different physically, mentally and phasmologicly. However most witches share the desire to disrupt or to cause disorder. They will accomplish this through subtlety or through pure destruction. This is also their weakness. They are often arrogant beings who will take what is not theirs from people who they do not know. They view humanity as being below them. As a result they see humanity as simple beings. Playing on this can result in a witch becoming over confident allowing for a killing strike. However, just because this may sometimes be the case, it may not always be so. Caution is still required when dealing with a witch.'_

"Mmmmm," Maka frowned putting the book down.

"What?" Soul asked.

"All that one said was using trickery and deception as a strategy _might_ work," she answered.

"That might be the best advice we get," Soul said yawning. "All we need to do now is find a damn witch."

"Yeah," Maka agreed. She reached for a black book marked with the 'Death Mask', Lord Death's symbol and a ½, symbol of the Grand Witch. Written along the top in Lord Death's black spidery scrawl were the words, 'Witch Register'.

Maka flicked through the pages at random and stopped. Her eyes scanned down the page. Although she didn't want to take the easy route, she knew that if she picked a high class witch, she and Soul wouldn't stand a chance. Her attention came to a Class Four Witch named Blaire. She smiled. Witches classed four were perhaps the most difficult for a One Star Meister to take on, and sometimes required Two Star Meisters to deal with. She looked at the witch's details and smiled.

'_Witch Blaire: Class Four Witch._

_Qualifications to engage in combat required: One/Two Star(s)._

_Description: The witch Blaire can easily be described as a 'seductress' and not afraid to show her witch nature in public. Well endowed, her magic has not been revealed to us in total so we can determine neither her magic discipline nor whether or not she possesses a patron animal or what it may be._

_Location: The witch lives in a pumpkin house in the forest within the outskirts of Death City._

_Level of Priority: Blaire is a petty woman who is less interested in the concerns of the rest of witch kind. During reconnaissance she has attended not one single Witches Masse. As a result Blaire is not a priority, but still a cause for concern. Approach with caution.'_

Maka closed the Witch Register and looked to Soul. Soul seemed to sense that he was under her gaze and he opened one red eye. "Found one?"

Maka nodded getting to her feet. Soul followed her lead and got up from his chair as well. Maka approached the librarian's desk. The librarian was a strange man, with curly grey hair, thick lips and a constant expression of surprise. The librarian took the Witch Register from Maka and bowed quickly, retreating to inform Lord Death of the update. Maka looked at Soul as they left the library.

"We'll take the rest of the day off," she told him. "We'll need all our strength to deal with Blaire tonight."

"Cool," Soul grunted.

*_Later that Evening*_

The house was shaped like two pumpkins stacked one on top of the other, the upper one smaller than the other, with two windows carved to look like eyes. The door in the front of the lower pumpkin was a pale sort of green and where a stalk should have been was a metal chimney. Steam was coiling out of it in great clouds.

"This is the house that the witch Blaire lives," Maka explained from their hiding place in the bushes surrounding the house.

"A pumpkin house?" Soul muttered perplexed. "That's cool I guess." He looked to Maka. "So what's the plan?"

"We're not going in to attack yet Soul," Maka hissed. "We need to get an idea of out enemy. It would be suicide to just run inside without ever even seeing this witch."

"Not very manly," Soul grumbled, but he begrudgingly slumped back against a tree.

Inside the pumpkin house, the witch Blaire reclined into the soapy bubbly bath water and let out a contented sigh. She let her head fall back and purred. Her purple hair cascaded down her shoulders and trailed delicately into the bath water. She opened feline, amber yellow eyes and let them wander through the steam filled space. She snapped her fingers and the blue bar of soap floated off of the shelf and into her hand. She smiled and set about scrubbing her arms. As she did she started to hum a little tune. Not any recognisable one, but it was a tune nonetheless.

She snapped her fingers again and the soap hung in the air as Blaire stretched her arms behind her head. She glanced out of the window closest to her. Her purple, furry ear twitched as she heard the hints of a conversation from outside her house. She frowned and got out of the bath and quickly padded to the window. She opened it a crack and more of the conversation came through it. Two people. A boy and a girl. They seemed to be having some sort of argument.

Blaire frowned, tempted to tell them to go away, before shrugging her shoulders. They weren't disturbing her, not really. She went back to the bath and sank back into the bubbles, letting out another contented sigh.

Back outside, Maka peaked out from behind the tree.

"I swear I saw something in that window," she whispered to Soul.

Soul stepped out from behind the tree and yawned.

"I didn't see anything," Soul said. "But if you say she was in that window, let's go."

"Go?" Maka blinked, confused. She only got the meaning behind Soul's words as her weapon dashed up the garden path to the pumpkin house and leapt into the air.

Maka watched, furious as Soul crashed through window, sending glass everywhere. Soul landed heavily in a steam filled room. He brushed himself off before looking up at perhaps the most beautiful women he had ever seen.

She had amber yellow eyes that looked at Soul with a mixture of annoyance and confusion. Her purple hair cascaded down her shoulders and two furry, purple ears twitched on the top of her head. Her skin was perfect and she had the most perfect body Soul had ever seen, displayed in half of its glory as she looked at him over the rim of the bathtub she now knelt in.

"Did you have a problem with my window little boy?" she purred, giving a feline smile.

Soul felt blood dribble out of both of his nostrils. He opened his mouth to say something but all that came out was a strangled rasping groan. The woman chuckled.

"See something you like?" she asked playfully.

Soul would have responded when a foot smashed into his chest, sending him rocketing backwards. He landed heavily against the well of the bathroom as Maka landed in a crouch after her kick to Soul's chest. She glanced over her shoulder as Soul shook himself and wiped the blood off of his face.

"Idiot," she muttered, before returning her attention to the woman in the bathtub. "Sorry for the interruption, but I'll be taking your soul now."

The woman in the bathtub smiled and tilted her head to look at Soul. "I hope your friend is okay," she purred as Soul sat up.

Soul took one look at her and his head fell back immediately, a fresh spurt of blood pouring out of his nose. Maka blushed, her serious moment ruined by Soul's attraction to this women. Maka had no doubt anymore, this was the witch Blaire.

"Soul," Maka growled through gritted teeth. "Weapon form… _now_."

"Working on it Maka," Soul rasped. He leaned forward again and shook his head, before sticking both his finger and thumb up his nose. "Okay witch," Soul said, voice slightly nasally, finger and thumb slowly becoming coated in blood. "Hot or not, I'm gonna' eat your soul!"

"Witch?" Blaire muttered, slightly confused.

Maka and Soul didn't hear this remark. Soul stood up as his body became wrapped in a blue light. His form disappeared in a rapid flourish of light and Soul's weapon form dropped into Maka's hand. Blaire's eyes widened.

"So you're from the Academy," she said smiling. "And that makes him a weapon?"

"After he eats your soul, he'll be a Death Scythe," Maka said proudly. "And I'll have created a weapon more powerful than my own father."

"~Cool~," Blaire smiled, rising up from the bath tub, the water clinging to her body drying in a blast of hot air and steam. When she touched down on the ground and the steam dispersed she appeared fully clothed. She was scantly clad in a pair of small black shorts and a tiny leather jacket that only just covered her bulging bosom, but left her flat stomach exposed. On top of her head there now perched a black, slightly crooked witch's hat.

"Why don't you be a good little girl and hand that scythe over to someone who can use it?"

Maka growled and twisted Soul so that his blade caught the light of Blaire's bathroom light. Soul's face briefly appeared in his blade, staring at Blair with a look of mixed attraction and hostility.

"I don't think so witch," Maka snapped. Blaire frowned.

"Pity," she muttered, raising one hand. Maka raised her eyebrows, before realising too late that Blaire planned to cast a spell. "Pumpkin, pumpkin," she intoned, as a glowing orange Jack-O-Lantern appeared in her grasp. "Halloween Cannon!"

The Jack-O-Lantern flew straight at Maka before she could raise a guard. As soon as it contacted it blossomed into an explosion that sent Maka rocketing back out through the wall of Blaire's house. Maka had hoped that the walls of the house were indeed made of pumpkin skin. No such luck. The walls were made of brick and plaster so when Maka hit the wall, she hit it hard and went straight on through.

She landed flat on her back, gasping from the pain. Soul lay by her side, still in weapon form, urging her to get up. Maka groaned. She had multiple bruises she knew, and a few nasty gashes. She had a nasty feeling one or two of her ribs may be cracked. She rolled over and got onto her hands and knees, gripping Soul feebly with her right hand.

She got to her feet and looked back at the house. There was a gaping hole in the top pumpkin and Blaire was standing in it, smirking. Maka growled and swung herself around, wincing at the stabbing pain in her chest. Blaire snapped her fingers and a Jack-O-Lantern as tall as Maka appeared floating in the air. Blaire hopped onto the floating pumpkin and it carried her over to where Maka stood.

"You really want to fight me little girl?" Blaire purred, the fires inside her Jack-O-Lantern glowing green and red. Maka scowled and gripped Soul tight in both hands. Blaire smiled, revealing a pointed incisor. "I think I have my answer."

Maka readied herself for Blaire's next strike as the woman in question glided higher into the air, her hat just brushing the lower branches of the tree canopy. She didn't have to wait long. Blaire snapped her fingers and more Jack-O-Lanterns appeared around her. All of them glowed with the same, green/orange fires. With a small wave of her hand, Blaire let the pumpkins fall to the ground.

The second the first pumpkin touched the ground less than a yard away from Maka, it exploded into a ball of multicoloured destruction and a cloud of purple smoke. The force of the blast knocked Maka aside, almost underneath another falling pumpkin. Maka looked up and knocked the pumpkin away with the butt of Soul's handle. The pumpkin exploded with force that knocked Maka flat on her back. She felt pain in her right hand and when she looked she saw her white glove had become blackened and charcoaled. It fell off of her hand in chunks, revealing the seared and blistered flesh beneath.

Maka winced as she looked at the damage that had been done and looked away, just in time to see another one of Blaire's pumpkins fall from where it had been suspended in the air. Maka rolled quickly and got to her feet, running from where the pumpkin would most probably hit the ground. She heard the explosion behind her and Blaire's laughter.

"Give it up!" Blaire called. "You can't beat me girl!"

"What are you doing idiot?" Soul hissed loudly in Maka's grasp.

"Shut up!" Maka snapped back, slipping behind a tree in order to hide from Blaire. "What do you expect me to do? Or do you plan on beating her by getting another nose bleed?"

"Hey!" Soul yelled back. Maka scowled at him, failing to notice Blaire hanging upside down several feet above her head.

"You're completely useless sometimes" she muttered with contempt. "I bet you only ran into Blaire's house because you knew she was taking a bath."

"Now you're just making false accusations!" Soul cried in indignation, his face appearing in his blade, flushed and angry. "Can you explain where women get these crazy ideas from?"

"Woman's intuition," Maka said simply, peeking out from behind the tree they were hiding behind.

"I don't understand you sometimes."

"Hey now little scythe-boy," Blaire said from above Maka. Maka leapt away, Soul already raised to strike. Blaire flipped over on her pumpkin so she was once again upright. "Is that mean old girl giving you a bad time? Hmmm? Why don't you forget about her and come be mine? I would never, ever talk to you like that no matter what you did to me."

Soul cocked an eyebrow at Blaire. Maka scowled at Blaire.

"Hold on witch," Maka snapped. "Soul is my partner not yours. Our conversations don't concern you. I'm gonna take your soul."

Blaire's smile became coy. She rested her head on her interlocked fingers.

"We'll see about that," she purred.

Maka raised Soul ready to attack. Blaire snapped her hand out and another glowing Jack-O-Lantern flew at her. Maka smirked, ready. She swung Soul like a baseball bat, the flat of his blade knocking the pumpkin back towards Blaire. Blaire only smiled lazily however and the pumpkin she rode on shot higher into the air, the pumpkin-bomb landing some way behind her, exploding against the trunk of a tree.

Maka leapt into the air after Blaire, Soul's blade gleaming, ready for the killing strike. Maka brought Soul down hard, cleaving the pumpkin in two. Maka was surprised however. She hadn't felt any resistance of flesh or bone. It was almost as if Blaire hadn't been there.

Her eyes widened as she landed in a crouch and looked up sharply, eyes scanning the forest for Blaire.

"Pumpkin, pumpkin," she heard Blaire murmur from somewhere behind her. She whipped around as Blaire summoned a sphere of light in her hands. "Smacking Pumpkin!"

She forced her hands down, a huge orange/green pumpkin made entirely of light appearing above Maka. She dived aside as the construct slammed into the ground, making a large crater in the earth.

Blaire smiled as Maka scrambled to her knees. She snapped her fingers and a long root from the tree nearest Maka ripped up from the ground and wrapped its end around Maka's ankle. Maka looked at the trapped ankle just as the root holding it wrenched itself from the ground and flung Maka into the sky.

Maka cried out as branches whipped through her hair, lashing at her face and catching on her cracked ribs and blistering hand. She broke through the tree canopy and caught a glimpse of Blaire's grinning face, just before she felt a powerful kick in her back sending her rocketing over the trees, before she began to fall back down to Earth, crashing through the canopy.

It was a lot more painful falling than being thrown. Maka's descent was jerky and rough as she hit each branch one after the next. The air was knocked from her lungs as she finally landed back onto solid ground.

"What are we gonna do Soul?" Maka coughed through raw lungs. "My attacks don't work on her."

She looked at the scythe she clutched in her hand and waited for a witty response, anything. Soul didn't respond however, the eye embedded beside his blade was blank and glazed over. Lifeless.

"Soul?" Maka asked as Blaire descended from the sky. "Soul what's wrong? Answer me!"

Blaire smirked.

(S.E.R.)

Spirit walked into the Death Room, hands in pockets, whistling a jaunty tune with the flush of alcohol across his cheeks. He stumbled a little and leaned against the guillotine arch nearest him. He gave a small, drunken chuckle before walking towards Lord Death's podium. As he neared, Death turned his gaze on the Death Scythe, looking past the golden throne and its occupant.

"You're out drinking when you're daughter's in trouble? What kind of father are you?" Death asked exasperated.

The occupant of the throne muttered something only the two people standing on either side of him could hear. One of them laughed hysterically, the other smiling slightly.

Spirit seemed to sober up pretty quickly at Death's words however. He ran to Death's side.

"Maka, something happened?" Spirit cried, glaring into Death's mirror.

The mirror was a single sheet of darkness so black that it seemed to pull all other light towards it. It didn't cast a reflection as such, but it was named a mirror by Death so it had become known as his mirror. In its strange dark surface Spirit could see Maka battling with a witch in a very inexperienced way.

"She's not doing so well against this witch," Death said in a nonchalant manner. "It looks like she might die."

"What?" Spirit breathed looking sharply at Death. He spun around, black and grey blades sprouting from his elbows. A larger, thicker blade emerged from his back which curved over his head. "Maka hold on."

"Stop right there," Death said coldly before Spirit could run more than a few steps. Spirit froze, although every muscle in his body was tensed. "You or I could finish an enemy like that with a single blow." He raised one of his large hands to demonstrate. "A single Reaper Chop is all it would take to crush her flimsy little skull and allow us to take her soul. We both know that Death Scythe."

Death looked into his mirror with, though not really seeing the fight Soul and Maka were engaged in, vaguely registering Maka, with Soul in hand climbing a tree as Blaire fired off exploding pumpkins.

"Our skills aren't the ones being tested though, are they?" he said quietly. Spirit was quiet. "You're her father, you must understand the situation."

The blades that had appeared on Spirit's body retracted in a gleam of white light. He turned slowly to look back at the mirror.

"Maka," he whispered.

"Still," Death muttered, watching as Maka leapt from tree branch to tree branch. "There's something a little weird about that witch."

(S.E.R.)

Maka landed heavily on the next branch and Blaire took the opportunity to throw one of her pumpkins straight at Maka. The young Meister looked up and jumped just as the branch she had been perched on exploded. The force of the blast caught her however and sent her flying, peppering her coat and back with splinters.

Maka spun in the air, looking straight at the ground. Not liking her chances of surviving the drop with her injuries she lashed out with Soul's blade, trying to hook a branch. The tip of Soul's blade sank into and through the trunk of a nearby tree and Maka jerked, her arm threatening to pop out of its socket.

"Soul!" she cried, biting back a sudden well-spring of tears. She blinked and looked at the weapon in her hand. "S-soul, I don't understand? Why haven't you been answering me?"

"Maka," Soul said softly, before reverting to his human form, fingers hooked into the thick incision his blade had made in the trunk of the tree, Maka's hand clutching his. "Stop talking."

Maka blinked. Soul opened his hand and let Maka drop. Maka's eyes widened in surprise as she fell. She hit the ground hard, Soul clattering to the ground beside her in weapon form, before returning to his human state.

"Why'd you drop me like that you idiot?" Maka snapped. Soul straightened up and turned away from Maka.

"I don't think we should be partners anymore Maka," he said quietly. The words hit Maka like a punch to the stomach.

(S.E.R.)

"Yeah that's more like it, leave my daughter alone you little scumbag!" Spirit crowed. Death scowled and raised his hand.In a matter of seconds Spirit was rendered a dribbling mass on the floor.

"Is that the best thing to be saying right now?"

(S.E.R.)

"W-wha?" Maka stuttered, confused. "Why?"

"I don't think it's working out anymore," Soul replied. "And besides…"

He turned to Blaire who was descending from the sky.

"I want to be _her _partner instead," Soul said smirking. Blaire beamed.

"You really want me?" she purred, ecstatic, descending to the ground. Soul walked over to the witch, smiling smugly. Maka rolled to her knee and got to her feet.

"Blaire," Maka snapped. "You used your magic to make Soul want to be with you that's a dirty trick!"

"Are you dense?" Soul chuckled as he reached Blaire. "Any man with half a brain would choose Blaire over you and your flat chest. She didn't have to use magic to pick her instead of you."

Maka was speechless.

(S.E.R.)

"Now that you mention it," Spirit said, smiling like a drunken fool (which he was). "That witch really does have a nice body doesn't see?"

_*WHACK*_

"It would be best if you just shut up for a while," Death told a now bleeding and only semi-conscious Spirit.

(S.E.R.)

Maka couldn't help it. She started to cry. After seeing her father betray her mother's trust time and time again with other women, her faith in the opposite gender had been all but completely crushed. But when she had met Soul, she found it possible to put her faith back into the male gender once again. But now that faith, that trust had been destroyed.

"I thought you were different!" she yelled at Soul. "You weren't supposed to be like my father! You! I decided to trust _you_ Soul! I thought that you were different!"

The corner of Soul's mouth twitched into a frown.

"You said that women make wild assumptions without reason! Isn't that what you said?" Maka screamed at him. "Well what gives men a reason to cheat? It isn't fair!"

Soul smiled.

"I wouldn't know what gives guys a reason to cheat Maka," Soul said, casually putting an arm around Blaire. "After all." He gripped Blaire's waist with one tight arm. "Cool guys don't cheat on their partners."

Maka looked at Soul, confused. Blaire looked equally confused. Soul winked at Maka and held out his hand to her. Maka's eyes widened and she ran forward. Soul's arm became a blade, preventing Blaire from running.

Maka gripped Soul's hand and in one fluid motion he became a scythe, Maka pulling him round so his blade passed straight through Blaire in a single, neat cut.

Her body exploded into black ribbons that whirled around a purple orb placed where her heart would have been. The ribbons contracted on Blaire's soul until that was all that was left. Soul plucked it out of the air and smirked at Maka, showing off his sharp teeth.

"We've got them all," he said. "Nice work Maka."

Maka stood up and put her hands behind her back smiling. _Yes Soul,_ she thought to herself, _Thanks you for that._

"In the end the shape and form don't matter at all," Soul said, looking deep into Blaire's soul. "It's only the soul that counts right? Nothing else."

"Once you eat that…" Maka started to say.

"That's right," Soul said; the laughing moon high above dribbling blood from between its teeth. "With this soul I'll become a Death Scythe."

He lifted the soul to his mouth and let it pass between his teeth and slide down his throat. He swallowed, tilting his head back to look at the moon. Then his eyes snapped opened and an insane grin passed over his face as his whole body pulsed with purple light.

A sudden wind picked up, blowing the leaves in the trees. A light began to glow from underneath Soul's feet as the ground seemed to bubble and churn. Lighting came flashing down to strike the ground from nowhere. Soul roared with a mixture of pain and energy.

"The power!" he screamed, the curved black and grey blades of a scythe appeared from various parts of his body. "I can feel the incredible power!"

Then suddenly everything stopped. The wind froze, the lightning ceased and the light disappeared. The blades on Soul's body returned into him once again and he looked sheepishly at Maka.

"Or not," he said quietly.

"Wha!" Maka cried out in disbelief. Soul belched, his breath smelling of cat-food. "No way!"

"Meow!"

Maka and Soul looked down. Sitting in front of them was a small purpled furred cat, with amber yellow eyes and wearing the exact same hat as Blaire.

"No," Maka moaned. The cat looked at her. "Don't tell me… you're not really…"

The cat reached up with one of its hind legs and scratched her ear. The she spoke.

"I never said I was a witch did I?" Blaire asked casually. "You just made that assumption all on your own." In a puff of purple smoke the cat was replaced with Blaire, wearing the exact same clothes as before, minus the hat. "I'm really just a cat with a ridiculous amount of magical power."

Maka and Soul looked at her stunned.

"The shape and form don't matter isn't that right? Huh soul?"

Soul blinked before turned around and walking to the nearest tree. He leaned his head back and brought it forwards again with a sickening 'thwack!'

"You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding. ME!" Soul roared, punctuating each word with a head smack against the tree. He spun around to Maka. "So that means I've got ninety nine Kishin souls and a _cat _soul? That's just not right!"

Maka looked sick.

"That's not all," she said, looking like she might throw up. "Remember what Lord Death said?"

Soul thought about it for a moment before remembering what Lord Death had said about the witch's soul. How it was the most important of all. How if they made a mistake then all the Kishin souls they had collected would be… would be…

"So," Soul managed to croak. "So that means?"

"We failed," Maka managed to squeak.

Soul looked at Maka, before the two slowly walked back to Soul's motorbike. Soul got on first, Maka sitting behind him.

"And I was this close to being the coolest guy at the Academy," Soul moaned.

"As the Meister I'll take responsibility," Maka said. "I guess this means we'll have to start again."

"Can I come?" Blaire asked timidly.

Maka looked at her coldly. "Soul just ate your soul, why are you still here?"

Blaire smirked. "Don't you know all cats have nine souls?"

Maka sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Soul?"

"I don't know. If you ask me this situation isn't cool at all."

(S.E.R.)

_In the twinkling lights of some big city stood the mansion. In the mansion's dinning room their sat several languid looking men, all eating from bowls filled with human souls, picking them with forks and stuffing them into their faces. They all seemed to look to the man at the head of the table. The short man with the black hair and the dark eyes. The man in the pinstriped brown suit and the porkpie hat. The man with the razor sharp teeth and the flat nose and the hands decorated with gold and silver rings._

_In the rafters, watching the group was the short boy, hidden in the shadows, clutching at two small scythe-like objects, joined together by chains. The handles were of some yellow metal and the blades themselves were more like curve spikes._

_The boy himself was in a dark vest with a high collar and white shorts with a grey, studded belt. On his right shoulder was the outline of a pentagram, tattooed into his skin. His blue hair stuck up in the shape of a star and his green eyes studies the man at the head of the table._

"_He's the target?" he breathed, barely audible._

"_Yes," came the equally quiet response from his weapon. "We're after Al Capone and his associates. About a hundred of them in all."_

"_A hundred versus me," the boy breathed excitedly. "What I like." _


End file.
